The King's Mistress, in All Her Splendor
by ithaswhatitisnt
Summary: A brief character analysis on the Once Royal Mistress, here named Kenna. Rated T for mentions of sexual activity and brief description of torture. Please let me know if I should up the rating to M.


Hey, more than one post from me at the same time! That's rare! :D

I did a brief character analysis on the Once Royal Mistress because my friend (whom I am writing _Heart of Gold, Don't Let Them Take It From You_ with) wanted me to show my skill in regard to "getting into character's heads". The product of that request, shown below, honestly spooked him a bit. And he is not one to be easily spooked. He was spooked because a) It is completely different from what I usually write and b) I am a very docile person. The fact that something like this came from my brain scared him.

I do not own Demon's Souls. And I gave her a name so it would be easier to write. I present: Kenna, the Once Royal Mistress.

* * *

Kenna is on the king's arm, strolling in the lush gardens. She is draped in the queen's finery, the queen's wedding ring on a silver chain around her neck. The ladies following her are meant to serve the queen. The king has had the queen sent away to a convent. All that remains is Kenna, and she is God.

She stumbles the night she and the king agreed to conceive a child. Despite her best efforts, she cannot arouse the king, and he banishes her from the bedchamber. On the way out, escorted by the ones who acted as her guards for the time, she passes a nun and does a double take. It is the queen whose place at court she stole.

"I told you so. You would rue that day," the former queen says, stifling a cackle before shuffling away. Kenna can't help but wonder if the queen placed something in the king's evening ale to prevent his arousal. The king's mistress had always been able to make him perform before. She now understood the feeling of powerlessness the former queen had likely felt. It were as though she had been removed from the influence of an aphrodisiac.

The king is rather possessive about those in his collection, and Kenna is no exception. However, being a castoff of the king brings its punishments. In her cell, she is greeted by two men in black with one bearing a surgeon's scalpel.

"The king informed us to do what we had to do to make sure no other man would have you again," the taller of the two informs her. She inwardly shudders at what that could entail. Before she can voice her concerns, a third man in black is in her cell, and two of the three men are holding her down. The one with the scalpel hovers dangerously close to her face.

"This might hurt a little." Starting from her lips, he begins to cut strips of skin away. Kenna can see the strips coming off her face and being thrown to the side as though they were cutting strips of leather. She whimpers, tears springing to her eyes, but she stubbornly wills herself not to cry. It would be unbefitting of one who once shared the king's bed.

When they approach her eyes with the blade, the thrashing and screaming begin.

"We aren't going to blind you," the blade master quips.

"Maybe just a little," says the man on her left, and her screams grow louder. The blade pierces her eye, and her shrieks arouse the king's attention. He only clutches his new mistress closer to his side, holding his hands over her ears.

The men in black finish, and Kenna raises her hands to her face. With no more skin, and raw nerves exposed, every touch elicits another flinch.

"What have you done?" Talking is a chore, one she would gladly not do, but she must know.

"Hope you enjoy rotting," one of them says. Their footsteps fade away, and she continues to feel over her ruined face. They have placed slipshod bandages over her, to stop the bleeding, or to save others from staring at the monstrosity she has become.

Kenna has never been a devout woman, but God is the only one who can help her now. Mustering enough breath, she begins to sing one of the many hymns she remembers. Singing does not hurt as much as talking does. Maybe God will be merciful. Or maybe not.


End file.
